De Capo Press, 2006
Hardcover, 400 pages, $25.00
Diving for Inspiration
What would draw a reader to this memoir by British marine biologist Trevor Norton? One of the back cover blurbs states: “The marine biologist known as Bill Bryson Underwater.” Lured by the prospect of humor in the outdoors, in this case at the sea’s edge and below, this reviewer found it a delight, full of quirky British-isms and fascinating creatures, including people.
Inspired as a child by the television series “Diving to Adventure,” Howard makes his first foray underwater as a boy, seeking his own adventures near the coal-shipping ports on the Northumberland coast. “I was preoccupied observing wildlife in the nearest I could find to wilderness,” he writes. Between the unfolding of his marine biology career, his memoir moves in and out of the history of places like the 500-island Hebrides, the Isle of Man, and Glasgow. There are also chapters about his research in the Canary Islands and on the California coast.
Whether describing human fascination with legends of sea serpents, including Loch Ness’s own, or how limpets travel and what their “foot” looks like (a suction cup on a child’s toy arrow), Howard’s writing is full of wonderfully dry wit and playful metaphors — the tone is light and personal and the marine biology isn’t one bit intimidating. Readers get a palpable feel for the islands and coastlines of the British Isles as well as some history.
While at university, an old professor of Norton’s who specialized in limpets decided to lecture one day dressed as one. “He appeared with a large cardboard shell on his back, antennae dangling from his head and various organs pinned to his chest…but he never got to open his mouth for the students laughed and jeered and stamped. He exited, never to lecture again.”
To prove that reading about sea hares that squirt purple ink can be interesting, here’s Howard’s wit at work: “If confined in a bucket, they can suffocate in a sepia cloud, condemned by their own ink — a warning to all writers.” Writing about barnacles, he describes them as living in “calcareous tepees” then goes on to say, “The creature inside stands on its head and pulls food into its mouth with its legs.” Having never thought of barnacles this way, one gains a look into tidal pools with new lenses. Laughter may erupt as a result. Of puffins, “the gaudiest of British birds,” he writes, “They hide away in underground burrows like embarrassed guests who were sure it was a fancy dress party.”
Howard tells of a dive near a pier on the Isle of Colonsay, where he surfaces to find the Queen’s yacht had anchored nearby. Her aide-de-camp in the motor launch sees Howard submerge holding a black box with wires and as he comes up, explains to the skeptical security officers it’s a photometer for studying algae growth and rattles on enough about underwater productivity to convince them that no one could make up such a crazy alibi.
Howard reflects that by choosing the career he did years ago, “I would come to know the ocean as a wild aquarium, a laboratory, a cemetery for men and ships, and an anthology of legends. I would understand the spell it casts on fisherman, divers, treasure seekers, and writers, for the sea is a place for obsessives.”